Thank God You found Me
by prettycastiel
Summary: "His voice is slurred, he's drunk. Not that he knows he is, he feels perfectly sober... " an AU Drunk!Dean helpful!cas Angsty ficlet.


"And stay out!" the security guard who just kicked him into an alley at the back of a bar, frowns when he turns around. "I will! Your club stinks ass anyway!" his voice is slurred, he's drunk. Not that he knows he is, he _feels_ perfectly sober, well, maybe not entirely, he could possibly be a bit tipsy. The guard rolls his eyes, he is probably used to kicking out drunk troublemakers, working in the bar he does.

Suddenly, or it seems to be that way to him, the door slams shut. With that, the vaguely rhythmic background music stops, and the flashing disco lights vanish. The narrow alley suddenly seems a lot more dangerous and overall frightening. He shivers, the cold air is steadily working it's way through his thin clothes. He finds that popping up the collar of your jacket is alot harder when you're drunk._ Tipsy_. He slowly starts walking, mindful not to make any movements that could make him lose his grip. He walks towards where he thinks the streets are, towards where he hopes to find the living world.

It, sadly, takes him just a few steps to actually lose his balance. He falls, almost with grace, to the ground, cutting his left hand open on a rusty nail in his attempt to stop himself. "Fuck.". It doesn't even sound like a word, he is not just slurring this time, it's more like he's groaning.

He gets up, slowly, making sure he doesn't put too much weight on his injured hand, he may not know he is drunk, but he does know what to do with a cut like that. And the best thing he can do at this moment, he figures, is not touching anything to prevent infection, and not moving his hand to prevent irritation. He feels smart for thinking of the solution.

He cautiously walks on, managing to haul himself towards the first corner. Leaning up against the wall is the only way he can keep himself from falling a second time, so he stays close to it. He pushes himself around the corner with great effort, and sighs, in front of him is something he hadn't hope to find. An obstacle. A bin, or, well, more like a giant trash container.

He awkwardly tries kicking it, failing not only to move the blockage, but to hit it at all. He curses. After reluctantly letting go of his hold on the wall, he slowly but surely makes how way to the other side of the alley, careful not to touch the bin on his way. Because he is smart, and because trash is gross.

Halfway through the alley, which can't have been much wider than a meter or two, his knees give in to their feebleness. He falls. And this time he has nothing to hold on to and stop him from hitting the ground, hard.

He falls to his knees and then forwards, he is too slow in his reflexes, or no, he isn't physically too slow, his thoughts are too slow, because before he can do anything, he first has to calculate the risks of using his injured hand. And before he is done with the equation of 'filthy alley floor plus deep cut in hand', his head takes the hit. Blacking his already by alcohol weakened mind out in the process.

He blinks awake, a headache lingering and a thobbing pain in his hand. It's a little lighter in the alley, it seems like some time has passed since he fell. He can't see clearly, but he feels a shadow lurking over him. Someone is with him. He can faintly feel that he is being shaken. And that someone, or maybe something, he can't tell, is talking, no, yelling at him. He doesn't get the chance to make out what's going on, though, because before anything can get any clearer, a disgustingly black cloud slips over his eyes, and into his mind. And soon, he passes out. Again.

When he wakes up from being unconscious for the second time that day, the unfamiliar shadow is still there with him, sitting with its back against the wall he is facing. As soon as the figure notices he is awake, it leaps forward. Positioning its face just a few inches from his. He can at least see him more clearly now, and he is able to tell that the shadow is a guy, maybe a few years older than he is. The man is wearing a suit, and doesn't look like he was in the neighborhood to go for a beer, or clubbing, or he doesn't know. At least the stranger doesn't look like he was there for something fun.

"you're awake!" the man seems quite glad about it. Weird. Why would he care? He doesn't even know him! Does he? And why be happy? He most certainly is not. Being awake means being tortured by the ache of his head and the pain in his hand. A hand which has, he feels now, been wrapped in a piece of cloth.

"You hit your head pretty hard, I think." The guy says it doubtfully, but with a smile, as if it's a funny thing. Son of a bitch.

He tries to sit up straight, it dizzies him, but it isn't as bad as it was before. "Easy, easy..." the man talks to him as if he is talking to a misbehaving dog. It annoys him.

When he finally has managed to sit upright, he takes his chance to look around him. The alley looks different, in fact, it doesn't look like an alley at all. Everything is bright white, so white that his eyes take a way too long time to adjust to it, but that may also be caused by the hitting-your-head-pretty-hard-part. It also doesn't smell like the rubbish in the trash-container where he is laying, in fact, it smells like detergent. And the street, the street isn't hard and uncomfortable, like he remembers, no, it's sort of soft, and, weirdly, warm. He blinks twice, and then it finally occurs to him, he is not in the alley anymore. He is in a hospital.

"Why am I here?" he suddenly realises that those are the first words he speaks to the strange man. And somehow, he isn't OK with that. "I'm sorry." he says, apologizing without really understanding what he is doing. "Umm, I mean," It sounds cracked, is there something wrong with his throat? "who are you?"

"My name is Cas." The man, who apparently is named Cas, smiles slightly. And he smiles back, as in a reflex. He swallows with a painful difficulty. "Hi Cas, my name is Dean. Nice to meet you."

* * *

Authors Note;

I wrote this during 45 minutes of english class at school, so it hasn't been Bétad or even double checked by me. I apoligise for any spelling mistakes I might have made, and hope that you, despite those, enjoyed the read.

thank you for reading this. And as always, review if you feel like it and the same goes for adding to favorites.

good day.


End file.
